


What the Cold Air Brings

by shadows_of_1832 (SaoirseVictoire)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, F/M, Holiday Fic Exchange, but minor, character death mention, winter weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/pseuds/shadows_of_1832
Summary: He walks over to the other car with frantic steps, his face stinging from the frigid air and the snow that blows towards him. He peers into the cracked glass of the window, to see her turned towards the back seat. She smiles and her shoulders relax when she turns forward.He’s cautious when he taps on the glass to get her attention, worried that it will shatter. She narrows her eyes at him and climbs out of the car; he takes a few steps back.“Of course it had to be you.”





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EnjoninePride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnjoninePride/gifts), [angejolras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angejolras/gifts).



> Well, I'm a little late for the holidays, aren't I? (I'm sorry about that.)
> 
> This is also a new format to me, so if you see something I might have done incorrectly, my apologies in advance and feel free to let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> It's been awhile since I've written these two, so I'll apologize now for any OOC-ness that occurs.
> 
> (Should I mention this is a part of a larger piece? That kind of remains partially written with so many gaps?) Yeah, so I'm sorry if things become confusing because of that sort of thing...

He recognizes her with a single glance.

It’s been years, and while the innocence of childhood has long vanished, she still appears much the same. Her dark eyes and the torn edges of her clothing add a roughness to her that mirrored the difficulty of her younger days.

He walks over to her seat from across the bar, her hands fiddling with a napkin. “Ninny?”

She stops, turns, and her eyes go wide. “Nate?”

The two embrace, after so much time and distance.

“It’s been too long,” she says when they break apart.

“Twelve years,” he replies with a curt nod.

Here, he thought he would be furious with her. All those years ago, in a time where he needed her to talk to the most, she vanished. Ran away, more like it. Just seeing her now, knowing she’s alive, he’s relieved.

There’s the exchange of numbers, the mutual agreement to talk later, and he manages to part ways with her.

 

It’s almost a month before he sees her again.

He sits by the window in his third-story apartment, reading a book and taking occasional glances out into the street. It’s November, the wind bringing a bitter chill while snow has yet to fall. A majority of yellow and orange leaves still cling on to the branches, unwilling to surrender just yet. It had rained that morning, and though now the sky has turned dark, puddles still linger in the street.

He hears some shouting in the street, which for him is nothing new. There’s the slamming of car doors. Loud voices. It’s only a scream that draws his eyes to the window.

He opens the windows, prepared to say something along the lines of, “Knock it off!” when he hears a hiss and howls of pain.

“That’ll teach you!” the woman below says, then darts into the building.

There’s quick footsteps upon the stairs, no doubt disturbing his neighbors, then an abrupt knock on his door. He peers through the peephole, and finds Eponine on the other side. He opens the door, and without a word, she brushes past him and closes the door. She secures the bolts and locks the doorknob.

“If anyone asks, I’m not here,” she whispers, approaching the open window and shutting it. She turns off the lamp as well, the only lights remaining in the apartment being the nightlight by the kitchen sink and the light that sneaks in from the streetlights.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies, hearing murmurs and footsteps below. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

“A few of my father’s goons want their cut of the last prize, and don’t care to listen to me when I say I didn’t even get my share,” she explains, laying down on his sofa. “What is this, suede?”

“You’re helping your father?” he hisses. “Isn’t your parents’ crimes the reason you and your siblings were put into the system in the first place?”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” she replies with a smirk. “Got to survive somehow, Nate.”

“With the way you spoke of him after you found out your mother died in prison, I never would have thought—”

“Don’t play that card.”

“You hated them, hated that life…I guess I thought you wouldn’t let yourself get drawn in…”

Eponine shrugs. “Thénardier, Jondrette, pick whichever name you like, it isn’t going to change me, what’s in my blood, just as referring to yourself as Enjolras isn’t going to change the fact you’re a Tholomyès.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t you even dare connect me to that name.”

“Legally, you’re tied with your mother’s last name, but that doesn’t remove the other half of who you are.” Eponine picks up a pen from the side table and twists it in her hands. “Your sister may call herself a Fauchelevant, but that can’t fully cut ties, either.”

“You know about that?”

“When you’re a Thénardier, picking up things is easy. Whispers on the streets, the occasional digging, something’s bound to slip by.”

A pause. The murmurs below continue, then they vanish with their owners as they exit the building.

“They aren’t dumb enough to go knocking on doors; I’m just lucky to hit the right apartment.” She kicks off her boots, causing his cat Libby to hiss as one of the boots nearly lands on her tail. “Would it be any trouble to crash here a few days?”

“I…”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor, and looks him in the eye. “Look, things there need to cool down a bit. If I try showing my face, they’ll chance on taking me as part of the prize, and it wouldn’t be the first time.”

He hesitates. He tries to think of the girl he used to know—the girl he climbed trees with, who wasn’t afraid to play rough with his friends in a game of ice hockey, who had no problem being a nuisance to Officer Javert now and again, the girl who cried when her mother died, the one who had empathy for him when his own mother got sick…Is she even there?

Pieces. Fragments. But they’re there.

“I suppose a few days wouldn’t hurt,” he replies, and then glances at the pair of discarded boots. “Just don’t trash the place.”

“I wouldn’t consider it.”

He gives her a brief tour of the apartment, shows her to the spare room. He sets aside a toothbrush for her and offers her a pair of pajamas Cosette left behind ages ago. He explains a few ground rules. Then leaves her be.

 

It’s almost three in the morning when there’s a knock on his bedroom door. Half-awake but startled, he reaches for the hockey stick beside his bed. The door creaks open, and Eponine’s silhouette comes into view.

“I’m sorry,” she says, taking a few cautious steps into the room. “It’s just, well…I can’t sleep.”

“Mhm?” he yawns.

“May I just…share your bed with you?”

As if he didn’t think the situation was any awkward before. “Uh, sure.”

He shifts the covers on the other side of the bed for her to crawl in. She lays down, her back to him, and he turns over and goes back to sleep with his back to her.

At some point in the night, she shifts over to his side, and wraps her arms around him.

 

The bed-sharing becomes a habit of theirs after this. She had told him the morning after the first time that it would never happen again.

 

They fall into a pattern.

He can’t tell if she leaves while he’s at work, but he comes home to a cooked meal versus having to order take-out. She reorganizes the bookshelves by author and topic, his original mode of organization there being “wherever it fits.”

“Everything else was in order, but when I saw that, it drove me nuts,” she explains. She takes a bite of spaghetti. “How could you miss that?”

“Appearances are deceiving,” he replies, sipping his tea.

“And in your field, how do you manage without coffee—that’s insane!”

He shrugs. “I take advantage of sleep when I can.”

She laughs.

 

A few days into this, he grows used to her presence, finds himself as comfortable as he used to be around her. What makes that worse is that he doesn’t want her to leave.

 

A week goes by, and after dinner, they’re doing the dishes. He’s washing while she’s drying. At one point, he splashes her with suds by accident. She retaliates by reaching over and tossing a clump of suds at him. A mini-war ensues with laughter all around. It ends with her slipping on the wet linoleum floor, him catching her while he ends up pinned against the countertop.

Silence, staring into each other’s eyes.

She leans forward, and he does, too, but at the last second, she pulls away.

“I’ll grab a towel.” She turns and heads for the hallway.

They don’t say a word to each other that night, even as they both crawl into the same bed.

 

After a week and half, neither of them hold back.

There’s an untouched bottle of wine he’d bought sitting on the counter. It was meant to be drank in celebration of his promotion, but as the news spilled forth from his mouth she attached her lips to his; he’d be damned trying to fight it.

It doesn’t take long for there to be a trail of clothes scattered across floor on the way to his bed. Whispers and murmurs, skin against skin, eager fingers trailing along each other’s body…

At the end of it all, she leans against him, her back to his chest, breathless.

“What have we done?”

 

In the morning, he wakes up to the sound of cat claws clicking against the hardwood as Libby bats around a discarded sock. He turns over, Eponine sound asleep still.

If only he could pause this moment.

 

The following night, she sleeps in the spare bed. As far as he can tell, that’s all that’s changed. She still speaks to him in that teasing tone of hers, treats his place like her own, makes sure he has more than a granola bar and tea for sustenance.

 

The week before Christmas, she claims she’s under the weather. The previous night he had heard her retching in the bathroom. He offers to take her to the doctor, knowing it’s flu season or she may have caught a bug, but she declines, and goes back to bed.

 

On December twenty-third, he comes home to find the apartment silent. There’s no smells of food coming from the kitchen, no music playing, no clicking of keys on the laptop or the fluttering page of a book.

He catches Libby batting around a piece of paper on the floor. He picks it up.

_I’m sorry. -Ninny_


	2. After Three Years...

The roads are slick with an inch or two of unplowed snow, with more coming down still, the darkness and the headlights not improving the conditions nor the visibility.

It’s his car that slides to the other side of the road. It’s the other car that ends up sliding off the road to avoid him and hits a tree.

Now, his sister scolding him for not being home for the holidays sooner is among the least of his concerns.

He pulls his car over to the shoulder after getting back into his lane; he cannot leave the other driver like that. What if they’re hurt, or worse? Oh, dear…

He walks over to the other car with frantic steps, his face stinging from the frigid air and the snow that blows towards him. He peers into the cracked glass of the window, to see her turned towards the back seat. She smiles and her shoulders relax when she turns forward.

He’s cautious when he taps on the glass to get her attention, worried that it will shatter. She narrows her eyes at him and climbs out of the car; he takes a few steps back.

“Of course it had to be you,” she grumbles, turning her back to him to observe the damage to her vehicle. “Great timing, Nate, just great!”

It’s been three years since he last heard her voice. Even in such a tone, it was nice to hear it once again.

“Time has never been a friend to us, has it, Ninny?” he replies, watching her kneel beside the shattered headlight.

“Aren’t we too old for that, _Enjolras_?” she says. “It was cute when we were kids, but now…Just call me Eponine.”

A curt nod. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she huffs, getting to her feet. “Not that that is any concern of yours.”

He glances at the car behind her. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

There’s a muffled cry from the car. She turns around and opens the rear door of the driver’s side, speaking in a gentle tone to hush the worried cries. Eponine removes the child from the car seat and holds the child against her, the child’s head resting upon her shoulder.

“It’s all right, Claire,” she murmurs, adjusting the child’s hat so it covers her ears. “Mommy’s here; it’s all right.”

He takes a few steps forward, and Eponine shields the child’s face from him and the cold.

“Did you call 1-1-2 yet?” she asks.

“How old is she?”

“The sooner the sheriff gets here for a report, the sooner we can leave,” she says, “or rather, you can, seeing as my car’s useless.”

“Eponine—”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment; make the call.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Eponine—”

“Now!”

He removes the cell phone from his pocket and does as he’s told.

 

“Are you sure Cosette won’t mind?” she asks as she fumbles with the child’s car seat in the back of his car as the last of the emergency vehicles drives off and her car is towed away.

“I doubt it—she asks about you a lot, if I’ve heard anything…” He rocks back and forth, Claire in his arms. “She misses you.”

“Marius isn’t enough for her?” She smirks.

“She considered you as a friend, you know?”

Silence.

“Why do you always do that? Vanish?”

“The same reason most people do. They’re scared, they feel unwanted where they are, they don’t want to face reality.”

“You felt unwanted?”

“I don’t want to talk about this now.” She extends her arms to grab Claire and place her in the car seat.

He opens the passenger-side door for her before he goes and climbs into the driver’s side.

“We’re past that point, don’t you think?” He gestures with his head towards Claire and starts the car. “Is she why you left last time?”

“Enjolras—”

“There’s about ninety minutes of driving ahead of us; we’re going to have to tell them something.” He pulls back onto the road. “I’m not going to lie to them.”

“Then I will.”

“I’m not blind, Ninny,” he says. “How old is she? Two years, a little more, perhaps?”

“I don’t want to get into this; just keep your focus on the road, please? The last thing we need is your car in a ditch.”

He sighs. “So you’re not going to tell me anything?”

“I don’t see why I should, especially since it’s going to end in an argument that will just have us going in circles.”

“I need some explanation, something.” He glimpses in the rear-view mirror to see Claire asleep. “You ran away when we were ten from a foster family that cared about you, on Christmas, no less—”

“We’ve had this discussion—”

“Did ‘Ferre or Courfeyrac ever tell you how many late nights we spent looking for you?”

“Twelve,” Eponine replies. “Until their parents put a stop to that; it was a reasonable distraction from your mother’s passing, to focus on that.”

He shakes his head. “We aren’t talking about my mother; we’re talking about you.”

“Enjolras…”

“Three years ago, what was that about?” He raises his voice, trying not to let the emotions get to him. “I don’t see you for over ten years, I allow you into my home, and then you vanish without a trace after, what, a few weeks?”

“Don’t act you don’t know where that would’ve lead!” she snaps.

“I keep asking what I did wrong, but I can’t find an explanation.”

“Is one that necessary?”

“Yes!” He turns to look her in the eye, only a glance, then focuses back on the road. His breath shakes from the exasperation. “Do you realize how much it upsets me to think that you don’t trust me?”

“I don’t know you as well as I used to,” she murmurs.

“You used to trust me with everything.”

“I’ve lost the ability to trust,” she replies. “Everyone says they’ll stay, but they always leave.”

He shakes his head. “Really? Last I checked, you’re the one that keeps leaving me. And what good has that done?!”

“Shut up.”

“Make me understand.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because half the time, I don’t even know.” Her voice is strangled, and from the corner of his eye, he can see the tears in her eyes. “I can’t tell you why for certain I left all those years ago. Three years ago, though, it was to protect you.”

“Protect me? From what?”

She turns to the back seat, a small smile on her lips as she gazes at the sleeping child.

He lowers his voice. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” She turns forward. “She would have put your life on pause, and I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Ninny…”

“Stop that,” she says. “You had so much going on at the time, and I wasn’t going to make you suffer for a lone night’s mistake.”

“That’s what you think of it as, a mistake?”

“What else would it be?”

His phone starts to ring before he has a chance to respond. “Could you answer that and put it on speaker? It’s probably Cosette.”

Eponine picks up the phone from the cup holder, looks at the screen, then answers, holding the phone towards him.

“Hello?”

“ _Nate? Nate, where are you?_ ” comes the worried voice of Cosette from the other end. “ _Are you all right?_ ”

“I’m fine.” He glances towards Eponine. “I’m just running behind. Will probably be there in about an hour, hour and a half.”

“ _Good. Everyone’s waiting for you._ ”

“You don’t need to wait up for me. Start eating if you want.”

“ _No, we can wait._ ”

“Oh, and Cosette?”

“ _Yeah?_ ”

“Would it be difficult to add another place setting?”

“ _You’re bringing someone?_ ”

“Yes?”

“ _It shouldn’t be difficult—I’ll have Marius grab a chair from the basement._ ” There’s some murmuring in the background. “ _Do I know them? Is it Remy? Fabrice?_ ”

“Nope, but you know them.”

“ _Who?_ ”

“You’ll see when I get there—it’s a long story.”

“ _Oh, okay_.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“ _Alright. Drive safe_.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“ _Bye_.”

Eponine ends the call and places the phone back in the cup holder. “You could have told her it was me.”

“Maybe I want to surprise her?”

“Yes, because that’s a good idea,” she says with sarcasm. “I doubt she’ll be thrilled.”

“She misses you,” he says, and then tilts his head towards the back seat. “Besides, she’ll probably want to meet her niece.”

 

He wonders if he overestimated his sister’s reaction.

When the door opens, Cosette’s eyes go wide at the sight of Eponine, and her shining smile brightens when she sees the little girl in her arms. Cosette steps aside to let them in, patting Enjolras on the shoulder as he walks by.

“You sneak!” she teases in a whisper.

“It’s a long story I’ll explain later,” he replies.

Cosette nods, then turns to Eponine. “It’s good to see you again.”

Eponine shrugs her shoulder, looking towards the floor, offering a small smile.

“And a little one, too!” Cosette leans down to look at the child’s face. “She looks about Georges’ age.”

“She is, give or take a few months,” Enjolras replies.

Marius enters the room. He stops, and his face goes pale. Cosette walks over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. There’s a concerned look in her eyes, but Enjolras thinks it has nothing to do with Marius’ shock.

Enjolras glances around the room from Eponine, to Cosette, to Marius, and back to Eponine. Something in the air makes him shift uncomfortably.

The tiny thumps of four-year-old Jeanette approaching, full of giggles, have little effect to ease this awkward silence. Monsieur Fauchelevant, close behind her in a playful chase, stops when he comes upon the silent four young adults in the living room.

“Papa, you remember Eponine?” Cosette asks.

Monsieur Fauchelevant glances at Enjolras, then towards Eponine, and nods. “It’s been awhile.”

“It certainly has.” Eponine takes a deep breath, and looks towards Enjolras, uneasy. “Perhaps I made a mistake—”

“No, you’re all right,” Cosette assures her, and turns to Monsieur Fauchelevant. “Can you watch the little ones while that rest of us have a little talk?”

“Of course,” he replies with a smile. Eponine takes a few steps back, holding Claire closer to her.

“Eponine, she’ll be fine,” Enjolras says, resting a hand on her shoulder. She pulls away from the touch and shakes her head. He wonders what might have happened that distancing herself from Claire makes her so anxious.

“She’ll only be in the next room,” Cosette adds.

Eponine’s eyes flicker over Enjolras, who nods. She walks over to Monsieur Fauchelevant, and hands Claire to him, still hesitant.

“Mama will be right back,” she murmurs, then presses a kiss to the child’s forehead.

 

Marius and Cosette lead Eponine and Enjolras to the spare bedroom. The husband and wife sit on the bed while Eponine and Enjolras sit down on a set of old rocking chairs that had once been in the living room.

“We didn’t have to separate ourselves like this,” Enjolras says.

“I only did it because I think there’s a lot more going on here than you think I realize, Nate.” Cosette glances towards Eponine. “And I would rather that the air gets cleared now so there’s no shouting at the table.”

“Eponine and I already discussed this in the car.”

Cosette raises an eyebrow, and shakes her head.  “How long have you to been together?”

“We’re not—Eponine’s car slid and hit a tree, and rather than her being driven to who knows where, I offered for her to come with me.”

“It was your car that slid—I ended up off the road to avoid you,” Eponine corrects.

“So this is just a coincidence, basically?” Cosette asks.

Eponine nods. “Basically.”

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Wherever life takes me.”

“So wherever your father’s schemes are?” Enjolras stabs, and Eponine glares at him.

“If you think I would let Claire anywhere near that—”

“Your mother’s death didn’t stop you.”

“I got away from that the moment I found out about Claire, you twit!”

“And me!”

“We discussed this—she was, we were only going to hold you down, and I couldn’t do that to you.”

“You could have let me decide—”

“Hold it!” Cosette injects, and takes a deep breath, turning towards her brother. “She’s yours?”

“Yes.” Enjolras answers, his voice going back to normal. He leans back in the chair. “It’s something I’m still adjusting to.”

Marius glances at Cosette, then looks towards Eponine. “And you…after all this time…”

“I made my choices; I can’t change them,” Eponine says, her eyes flickering towards Enjolras.

“You never told me; you just left,” Enjolras murmurs. “Just a note with ‘I’m sorry.’”

“There was more to that,” Eponine replies. “You didn’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The test.”

“What test?”

“What test do you think?”

Enjolras stares at her for a moment, his eyes going wide when he realizes what she meant. He sighs. “That darn cat.”

Eponine’s eyebrows furrow, and Marius and Cosette exchange confused looks.

“Libby. She was batting around the note like a ball when I found it; she might have done the same with the test.”

Eponine nods in understanding. “Which is why it never came up in your many voicemails.”

“You listened to those?”

“Every single one.”

“But you never returned any of those calls.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to. Back then, I couldn’t explain why I did what I did, and when I thought I could,” Eponine’s gaze turns to the floor. “I figured it was too late, that you forgot and moved on.”

“Ninny, I waited ten years to see you again—did you think a few months or a few years was going to do the same?” He leans down, trying to meet her eyes. “Did you really think that after everything, I would forget you?”

Eponine shrugs. Marius nudges Cosette, telling her they should leave the room to allow them privacy. Cosette nods, and the pair exits.

“I don’t think a day went by where I didn’t think of you,” Enjolras murmurs as the door closes.

“I didn’t deserve it, after all the pain I’ve caused you.” Eponine glances to the floor, then back at him. “We can never go back to the way things were, you know, not like when we were kids—we’ve gone too far for that.”

He smiles a bit. “No, we can’t.”

A pause.

“What’s she like, Claire?” Enjolras asks.

Eponine hums. “She can be a bit stubborn, but she’s bold. She gets along with nearly everyone she meets, versus the shying away I recall most children doing. Hates any food that’s green, even if it’s a green apple instead of a red one. She has a little stuffed cat at home that she’s rarely without.”

He nods, encouraging her to continue.

“She reminds me a lot of you. A bright, friendly spirit. She’s got those startling blue eyes that have always kept you in my mind.” She stands and walks towards the bed, then sitting down. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way; it was never my intention.”

“I know now—that’s all that matters.” He gets up and takes a seat beside her. “Don’t shut me out again, please.”

Eponine nods, tears forming in her eyes. He takes her hand.

 

When they get back downstairs, they find everyone sitting in the living room. Marius is on the couch next to Cosette, cradling the two-month-old Fantine. Fauchelevant has his eyes on Georges, Claire, and Jeanette, who are currently occupied with a stack of blocks.

“Everything all right?” Cosette asks.

“I believe so,” Eponine replies, smiling, and then looking towards the children with the blocks.

Enjolras turns his attention to Claire, who giggles and claps with delight when Georges knocks the small tower over, resulting in a disgruntled look from Jeanette. Eponine was right—their daughter’s eyes have that same blue, but what she neglected to mention was that she has Eponine’s smile, and his mind flashes back to the days when they were children all those years ago.

“I care about you, Ninny; don’t forget that.”

“I won’t, Nate.”

Cosette stands up. “Dinner should be ready. How about we all start heading to the table, hm?”

There are murmurs in unison, all in positive spirit. Eponine walks over to Claire and picks her up. Fauchelevant starts to get up to pick up Georges, but Enjolras stops him.

“I got him, Papa,” he says.

Fauchelevant claps him on the shoulder once both men get to their feet. Both glance towards Eponine and Claire, who are halfway to the table.

“You’re going to do fine,” the older man says with a smile. “Just don’t lose her this time.”

Enjolras nods, watching as Eponine sits down with Claire on her lap. “I have a feeling I won’t have to worry about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are much appreciated!
> 
> Again, so sorry for the delay with this.


End file.
